Danish-American Miscommunication
by LibraMoon
Summary: America was utterly clueless. Denmark wants to date her, but she's America and she simply doesn't understand. Rated T for swearing and mild sexual suggestion. DenmarkxFemAmerica. Oneshot.


**Reader request! **

**"**_**Could you pretty please possibly write a DenmarkxFem America story if you have time? Pretty please like where she's oblivious about Denmark being possessive, jealous, and protective with his huge axe warding off other interested parties?"**_

**Well ladies and Gentleman, here we go!**

**Rated M. I own nothing. **

**On the off chance that any Danish readers get a hold of this, I swear to you I tried to tie him in with actual Danish culture.**

OoOoOo

If anyone knew anything at all. It was wherever America was, you'd find a smiling Denmark. Who'd more likely than not, make you keep to the five feet rule.

Five feet away from America.

Even in meetings. Especially out of them. Today was a meeting and Denmark was waiting for her, with a patient tapping of his fingers.

He saw her in an instant, when she burst through the doors, blonde hair easily catching his eyes.

"Little one!" He called cheerfully, waving her over with a wide smile.

The other nations watched in avid amusement as America-sweet, loud, and brash but clueless- went jogging over to Denmark.

It had been discussed, quietly of course because Denmark had a damn axe, that whenever Denmark called, America came running.

It was also noted that the same was true in reverse, only much faster.

"Denmark!" She said with a sassy smile as soon as she got close to him.

He grinned down at her.

She blushed.

He loved that blush. It made him want to pull her into his lap and plaster kisses all down her neck.

But that was a fantasy. His reality was sneaking kisses from America who was thoroughly unaware of what Denmark really wanted.

"You're going to make me do it, aren't you?"

"_Make _you?" He said, pretending to be shocked, "I would _never._ Now, if you _wanted_ to, that would be something else entirely." He said with a suggestive tone.

America laughed and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"And the other?" He said with a large smile.

She kissed his other cheek, and continued to blush. She then grabbed him in a hug. Ah, American greetings. This part he secretly enjoyed very much.

No one had bothered to tell America that Danes didn't kiss on the cheeks. He'd exploited it after an interesting meeting with another country where they'd been insulted America hadn't given them four kisses. To be fair it was 'air kisses' as America dubbed them.

So, he might have fibbed... a bit... and told her Danes kissed by way of greeting.

America, easily accepting America, had bought his little lie.

Did he feel guilty? No. Not at all. She kissed him this way. She didn't before.

He felt a little sad when the hug ended, and he pulled out a chair for her. She sat next to him without comment. It had become their little ritual, and Denmark was not going to let other nations take away what precious time he actually got to spend with America.

She was fun and vivacious. Yes, she would be loud and obnoxious, but he liked that about her too. She could party with him at the bar, though not nearly as hard as he could. He often had to fish her out form under a table or curl her up on his lap to keep her from falling.

Other nations understood.

America didn't.

Because, quite frankly, America never understood.

To her, it was always Denmark being well... Denmark.

It's not him obviously trying to pursue a relationship with her. Or shower he with his affections to win her over.

No. That was only part of the misunderstanding.

What she didn't grasp was that Denmark was not being _nice._ He was _flirting_ with her. He didn't touch her because he was a handy country. He touched her because he wanted to touch_ her_. She didn't seem to get the fact that he only ever brought his axe to the meetings where they were both in attendance. She also was completely clueless to the heated glares he constantly sent to certain male nations who were thinking just what he was.

Dirty, dirty thoughts about how America would look rather lovely without her clothes and on a bed.

_His_ bed. Because he's fucking _Denmark_ and has always supported America. He's never turned against her or brow beaten her into anything. She in turn has always treated him kindly. He even let her buy what she now called the 'Virgin Islands'. Part of him secretly hoped that was a statement he could take seriously.

However...

Denmark does understand.

He understands that America is so fucking _adorable_ when she doesn't have a clue about what anyone is talking about. Or when she constantly declares that everything can be solved with 'common sense' but launches into a convoluted plan that somehow always involves either aliens or robots.

Hero robots, she tells him, because there _is_ a difference.

She'd naive. Denmark fucking adores that. She's also a lot of fun and she teases with him. He really, really, and -did he mention really?- likes that too.

However, it is when she looks so damn happy to see him that makes his heart pound in his ears and makes him want to crush her against him so he can kiss her senseless. She smiles whenever she sees him, and though it's not a declaration of undying love, he knows they could build a wondrous union on that.

America likes him, and smiles at him more times than he can count, so he gets the feeling _a lot. _

The only bad part is that other nations liked America too. Not as many as their used to be, thank goodness because he'd have to brawl somebody, but enough that made him more than a little...

Territorial.

Every other Nordic nation, Sweden especially, recognized his Viking-like behavior. Sweden applauded him for it. Going back to the old way. The ways that kept them strong. It was right to stake a claim in the most direct way possible.

And he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. He wants to take his Axe, stand in front of her, and demand to know who the fuck wants to take him on. Because he'll take them all on if he has to.

He'll win as well. Because, he's _Denmark._

America calls him her 'Fucking crazy Dane'. So that has to count for something. It _has_ to. He knows that they have cultural differences. American's tend to go into monogamy much quicker than his people. He's used to being able to date a few nations at a time.

America... tempting little America with her little mewls- when she falls asleep at his house-, doesn't do that.

She doesn't take the months to years to decide a courtship process. She's a much quicker nation to go 'all in', as she calls it.

He knows because he's done a lot of research on it and even gone to her damn home a few times to figure out why the _hell_ she wasn't leaning toward him that way. Because it's been a decades now, and surely she has some inkling that he wants to be more than friends.

Then he remembers...

America seemed so far removed from the sexual overtures of other nations because she _was_ remarkably ignorant. Which amazed him to no freaking end because America's people were the largest producers of porn.

However, she honestly would stare at him blankly when he offered to take her to bed. She'd thought he meant to give her what she called a 'Piggy-back' ride. So his flirtations were lost when she jumped on his back and yell out 'Yah!'.

It was still fucking adorable, and he'd laughed until he was breathless as she tried to ride him like her wild west days.

America doesn't know what he wants.

He wants to teach her, he would be a fucking excellent teacher. He knows what to do and how to do it. He's not ashamed of his past. He wants to put all that accumulated knowledge to work. For her. He wants to give her his best grin and have her clinging to him for something other than demanding a snowball fight.

Which he always wins at, even when she pouts for an hour afterward.

He wants to see her with her hair all mussed from certain...night time activities that _don't _ involve sleep. Because he's gotten her into his bed before, only to figure out by her snoring that she had absolutely no idea what his meanings were.

Or that they were not even close to on the same page when he said 'having a good time.'

She'd brought soda, games, popcorn, and a set of hero pajamas to his house. A grin that had him thinking the naughtiest things possible, with a movie dangling from her fingertips.

Denmark had all but cooed at her most of the night while simultaneously having a raging hard on when her breasts pressed against him during the scary parts of a movie she'd brought. She'd insisted on sleeping with him.

He'd been so hopeful...

Yet, she'd gone to sleep the moment he laid down next to her. He was frustrated, torn, and left wanting more than platonic cuddling.

She was slowly killing him and had it been any other nation, he would have sworn she did it on purpose.

But it is not any other nation. It is America and she simply doesn't understand what she does to him.

But Denmark most certainly does.

OoOoOo

He tries several times, to his credit. He wants to talk to her about it. However, he wants her to understand on her own. To come to terms with the fact that once they are together, their _together_.

He's even let her wear his hat! Somehow she's even more adorable when she's happily shouting at every passing nation how he let her wear his hat.

Romania offers to let her try his. Denmark stares him down with his axe in hand. It is a tense moment, but America manages to shift the focus. Like she always does

"Why would I need two hats?" She said with a sincere smile. "I only have one head, silly."

Romania gives the barest hints of a smile, something about America always has him amused. Denmark hates it. His eyes narrow at the smaller male nation and they exchange an unspoken conversation.

_Bland dig udenom._ Denmark's face reads as he stands protectively next to America.

_No._

_Why not?_

_Because._ Romania gives him a casual shrug.

_I'll chop you in half with this._

_Eh, I've had worse._

_Seriously?_

_Yes._

_For fanden!_

Well, short of actually going after the guy Denmark needs to get America alone. In private and try to ply her with his world-redounded sex appeal.

It hasn't worked yet, but he'll keep trying.

"Maybe we should go for a walk?" He suggested with a slightly irritated smile and a laugh that was overly loud.

America turned those blue eyes on him, even through Texas they had him weak at the knees.

"Why?" She asked, clearly confused.

Denmark froze. What was he supposed to say? He was trying to get her to go out with him, and as far away from an encroaching Romania as possible.

Damn interloper.

"For exercise?" He said, the first thing that came to mind.

Her face goes blank.

"Damn it Denmark," she snarled suddenly angry, "are you getting on my ass too? I am not fat!"

He doesn't think she's fat. He thinks she has a body made for sin, and please..._please_ let him be a sinner.

Romania coughs discreetly. Why was he interrupting a private conversation anyway?

"I don't think you're fat," he assures her with a slightly lecherous leer, "I think you're just _right_."

Denmark knows he all but purrs the word in a voice that screams 'sex now'. And he means that she is right for _him_. Just so he was clear.

America beams at him, nodding. "Thanks dude!"

Then he watches her walk away, and makes a motion with his axe when he catches Romania watching her too.

No. Hands _off_. Denmark doesn't care if Romania has magic. He's dealt with Norge. He can handle the guy with fangs.

OoOoOo

"We should go see a movie," he says, the next time, trying to lure her into something scary so she'll cling to him like she does when she's frightened.

He'll protect her.

And, he likes that his coat smells like her perfume after she's all but buried herself into his side. He thinks it is rather cute, the way her face flushes and she closes her eyes while denying adamantly that she's scared. Which will then be completely undermined by her shaking and blue eyes filled with tears.

It makes him want to hug her right now.

"Sure!" America says with excitement shining in her blue eyes.

So he walks with her to her car and she chatters about her week. He smiles and listens while trying hard not to be hopeful that maybe, finally, she'll understand that he isn't just being nice.

Because she always tells him how 'nice' he is.

He was a fucking Viking damn it! He is not nice! He is sex personified and she is tempting him with every shake of those hips. If he gets the chance he is going to show her exactly how he conquered so many lands by trailing a path up her skin with his tongue and teeth, and-

When they pull up to the theater, he sees someone he'd rather not see.

His eyes narrow as he notices that Spain is there.

Not Spain.

Spain likes women. Really likes women and he's been known to have his eyes wander to America.

This was a big fucking 'No', happening right here. In front of his eyes.

America sees Spain and smiles. Smiles! She gets out of the car without a second thought. Didn't she know it was Spain? If she had any idea how much Denmark knew about what Spain thought about around her...

Because even though he thinks it too, he's Denmark so that's okay. He adores her and wants to love her. Not just screw and leave.

Well, screwing multiple times would be preferable, but he still doesn't want to just leave.

He'd even let her move in with him. Today. If she wanted to.

Still, Spain is talking to her, and Denmark is irritated beyond belief. What the crap was this?

His inner Viking rears its head. Was that a hand on America? Did Spain just put his hand on her?

Ohhh. Oh No. That was not happening.

He's tall and imposing, but he smiles because America just would not understand why he would strangle Spain when her back is turned.

He's sorely tempted.

He gives a threatening glare that has the other nation paling, but turning to chat with America again. Denmark is more than a little pissed. Due to the fact the Spanish perpetrator has managed to convince America they should see the movie in a group.

He doesn't want a freaking group date. They've done that before and Denmark is ready for the next step, which is America understanding that he wants her. All the time. In his life. In his bed. Frankly it doesn't ever have to even be in a _bed_. He'll go anywhere she wants. Floor, kitchen counter, desk, chair, sleeping bag, cave...

Huh. The cave was a new one.

"What are you staring at?" America asks him.

He snaps out of his mental montage with a sheepish grin. "What we are going to see, of course." The words tumble smoothly from his lips and he hopes she buys it.

Her amused laugh tells him that she does.

"Oh, how about that one?" She points to what must be a cheesy romantic comedy.

Denmark would rather eat his axe. Or England's cooking.

He points to the horror movie. "That one?"

Come on America. Go for it...

"Y-you sure?" She asks, trying to tuck back a stray lock of hair to hide the fact she's nervous.

Denmark's heart melts a little bit as she shyly looks back at him. He gives her a mischievous grin.

"Yes. Unless, of course, you're scared?" He trailed of lightly and America frowns at him.

Her fists clench and she puts them on her hips.

"Dude, I'm the hero!" She flashes a cocky smile, but he can see her knees shaking a little bit. "I'm not afraid of anything!"

Adorable.

He smugly watches as she struts to purchase her ticket. He gets behind her in line, cutting Spain off from the chance. He purposefully didn't give the bastard a opportunity to have a say in what they were seeing.

Denmark is so close to America that he is practically touching her. She seems unperturbed by it after she sees its him. It makes him more than a little pleased. Danes normally do not like being touched, however America is the nation he's hoping to get to know _very _personally.

He pays for his ticket and America waits patiently for him. He smiles at her, and she beams back at him. Spain follows behind them.

Denmark glares at him once more. A warning. The only one the other nation will get.

It's not even twelve minutes into the movie and America has her eyes closed with her face pressed into his coat. Denmark lifts his arm and puts it around her as she snuggles in closer.

Spain watches with amusement and shakes his head. The male nation looks back at the screen, trying not to laugh as Denmark blushes slightly while still attempting to decapitate him with his eyes alone.

Later in the movie, America shrieks like the hounds of hell are after her, and grabs Denmark so tightly he can barely breathe.

And it is fucking awesome.

OoOoOo

He's resorted to coffee. In the morning, some weeks later. Surely she has to know what a coffee date is. Right?

He prays that this will finally make America understand that he wants to have a relationship with her.

Because frankly he's running out of ways to show her.

He's going to do it. He'll tell her that they need to take this relationship between them to the a romantic level. Denmark has been there for decades. And, he just is not willing to wait any longer. He's started getting warnings from Norway that the other nations are going to start banning him brining the axe.

Fucking cheaters.

He'll take them all on. America is worth that for him. He's an attractive nation. He's valued for his contributions to science, culture, art, literature, and architecture. He's a dream come true.

And, right now, his heart is beating out of his chest because America comes jogging up to him.

Her smile and eyes are so bright they nearly hurt to look at. She's adjusting Texas as he almost shoves a cup of coffee in her hands.

"Thanks hon," she says with a bit of tiredness.

The pet names are his other secret weakness. He can imagine hearing them a lot more often.

He cheers up considerably, tamping down his nervousness.

"America," he says strongly.

She looks at him curiously, sipping her beverage contentedly.

"I wanted to know, if you would like to-"

"America get back in here! No slacking off!" Germany screams from the building exit.

"I'm not slackin' off jackass," she snarls," I'm talking with Denmark."

The strict nation levels a look at her.

"You can speak with your boyfriend later,"

Well, Denmark and America haven't had that talk yet, so they aren't technically 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend'.

America gives Germany a rude gesture, which he starts berating her for.

"Isn't he just a _charmer_?" She muttered acerbically, casting him a sly smile.

Denmark snickers behind his own paper cup, but gives a warning glace to Germany when he tries to stride over and drag America away.

How many times does he have to tell these nations to keep their hands off? Honestly. He mutters to himself and follows them in.

He refuses to leave her alone knowing Germany's sadism fetish.

OoOoOo

It finally comes to a head one day when America tracks him down in the courtyard of one of Sweden's celebrations.

He'd invited her, but they'd gotten separated when she became distracted by something shiny. It takes all he has not to crush her to his side when she comes tearing back across the way.

There is fire in her eyes and she looks so determined that he just wants to kiss away her slight frown.

Or hell, he'd just kiss her.

"Alright," America says with a angry tone of voice.

Denmark was instantly on edge. Did someone try something? What a day to leave his axe at home. Stupid airport security.

"I've been patient," she informs him as she runs a hand through her hair.

"About what, little one?"

Her face darkens and she stares at him. "About waiting for you to ask me out. We hang out all the time. Do you even like me as anything other than a friend?"

She looks close to tears though she's putting up a furious front and Denmark can only blink at her.

Finally? They are finally going to have the chance to talk? As in, without some ass interrupting them or trying to steal her away from him?

Oh thank God. He was going crazy.

But he's Denmark so it would have been fine, because he'd just dust himself off and get back up again.

"America," he starts a blush of his own creeping across his face.

Okay, he can do this.

He was a fucking Viking.

He's had other relationships, this isn't hard. He can do this.

Her eyes well with tears.

"Oh my God," she half-whispers, "you don't."

"What?" He snarls, because she needs to give him a minute here. "I most certainly do want you for something other than a friend."

"I don't understand," she admits with an anxious look in her eyes. "Why haven't you ever tried to go on a date with me?"

"I have!" He denies vehemently.

"With like eight other countries," she deadpans, "that is not a date."

"It's a group date."

"I don't want a group date."

"Neither do I." he states forcefully.

He doesn't want anyone around but them. He wants to kiss her and love her. He wants her to look at him and only him.

He wants those other nations to back off and leave his woman alone!

"They why haven't you just ask me out?" America said in confusion.

"I have been," Denmark told her with a flushed face.

"When?" She asks with her hands on her hips, looking upset.

"The movies. My house. Coffee. Dinner." He lists off petulantly.

Her blue eyes cloud as she thinks. Her face tell him the moment she remembers what he's talking about.

"The movies, where you didn't want to watch the romantic comedy with me? You said 'no' to that! I thought you weren't interested in me." She said softly.

Wait, what?

He's staring at her like she's just announced she sees Norway's trolls. Not interested? In America? He's been itching to do things to her that even his people would pause at.

In a good way. The 'stand back in awe' sort of way.

"Why would you think that?" He asks, scarcely believing her.

America tilts her head and blushes. "Well, its common enough in America, when couples go of course, but I thought we could kiss when the movie got to the really romantic bits."

She shuffles from one foot to the other and looks away.

"You know... _a lot_?"

He's baffled and delighted all at once. His eyebrows rising to his hair line.

"What?" He asked, hoping he wasn't mishearing her.

She gives him a curious stare. "Didn't you know that? Couples make out all the time in movies. As long as they aren't horror movies."

Oh..._OH._ She'd been trying to get him to see a different sort of movie so they could kiss? That was so freaking cute that he wanted to twirl her around.

"I've liked you for the longest time," America confesses shyly, with a blush on her cheeks. "But you always just wanted to hang out."

"Hang out? We were going on dates," he argued with his accent deepening.

"We were?" America asked clearly startled. "But you never asked me."

He blinked at her. She...was...kidding...right?

"I asked you all the time if you wanted to do something."

Her face twitches, and suddenly she's doubled over laughing heartily. Denmark isn't certain what is so funny, but he smiles because her laughter is infectious.

"Yea," America said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, "but you never asked me on a _date_." She said emphasizing the word.

That was all he had to do? Really?

He was gaping at her.

"Do you want to go out on a date?" He blurts out as quickly as he can.

America moves to stand next to him. She wraps her arms around him. Her lips inches from his.

"Of course I do," She says with a sweet smile and rolls her eyes, "I've always wanted to. Hell, I want to go steady. Couldn't you tell? I adore you, but you are just so _clueless_ sometimes."

Then she kisses him like he's her hero, as he wraps her in his embrace.

She's warm and soft. She has the perfume on that he likes so damn much and they are in love. America wants to be _his._

And it is fucking _awesome_ to be Denmark.


End file.
